After The Dawn
by The Lonely Executioner
Summary: She's alone, surrounded by enemies. When she needs a rescue, he appears... But could he be destined to save her from more than just the lycans? Whistler/King, Blade/OFC, Drake/Danica referred to , Danica/King referred to , Asher/Danica referred to
1. Chapter 1

**Story Title:** After The Dawn

**Category:** Movies- Blade

**Type:** Action/Adventure/Romance

**Warnings:** Occasional OOC behavior. A Blade/OFC fiction.

**Pairings:** Whistler/King, Blade/OFC, Drake/Danica (referred to), Danica/King (referred to), Asher/Danica (referred to)

**Rating:** T (temporary assignment due to violence)

**Summary:** She's alone, surrounded by enemies. When she needs a rescue, he appears... But could he be destined to save her from more than just the lycans?

**Author's Note:** Okay, I know I have a wide diversity in my tastes, but how could you expect me to pass up the chance to have another strong, manly, sexy-as-hell character doing my wicked bidding? You didn't, did you? If you didn't, good. If you did, you obviously don't know me. LOL. Here we go.

Oh, and I borrow heavily from Laurell K. Hamilton's terminology for different were-animal groups. Pard for werecats, pack for werewolves, rodere for wererats and so on, but all generally referred to as 'lycans'. So, repeat after me, terminology and Blade do not belong to me. Only the OFC does and, well, even she doesn't obey me. Dammit. sigh

**Chapter One:**

_Two years after the events in __**Blade Trinity**_

Savannah O'Rourke stubbed out her half-smoked cigarette on the wall with a small sound of annoyance, carefully pushing it back into it's red and white package, flipping the top down. She pushed her black Skullcandy earbuds in, cueing up her Ipod to Breaking Benjamin's 'Dance With The Devil' as she walked into the club called The Lone Pussy. The local coeds thought it was a joke, though crude, about the singles scene.

What they didn't even consider was that it was a hideout for a pard of werecats.

The Nightstalkers had used the Daystar virus on Drake, the original vampire, Dracula, The First, two years ago, destroying the vampires and the greatest vampire hunter of all time, Blade. After the vampires were gone, there were familiars to destroy, computers to hack, bank accounts to transfer to the families of dead Nightstalkers. After the dead were cared for, there were funds and properties awarded to living Nightstalkers, buildings and businesses acquired, houses and estates, titles and social ranks... So much clean up work to do. After all, vampires had existed for millenia. One of the oldest destroyed that the Nightstalkers could account for had been one of Drake's childer, some three and a half thousand years old. Idly, Savannah imagined his birthday cake even as she remembered the dozen familiars, the millions upon millions of dollars, the properties around the world, particularly a chateau in Burgandy that she'd been awarded.

What the Nightstalkers hadn't known was that the vampires controlled the lycans. The beings that could change into animals. In Savannah's opinion, destroying all of the vampires had been a very necessary mistake. Even though it had continued the existence of the Nightstalkers indefinitely. They wouldn't have existed for much longer destroying only a hundred or so of the younger vampires a year. Not when there had been tens of thousands of vampires.

Which lead back to why Savannah was at The Lone Pussy. While it was a very popular coed hang-out, it was also a werecat sanctuary. Every Tuesday night, the club was closed to the coeds, but open to other beings.

Tonight was a werecat night. Savannah was here to crash the party. She checked her guns, her bullets, her powerarch. Everything was functional and Savannah took a moment to cross herself and thank whatever god listened to her prayers and had granted the lycans the same 'allergy' to silver as the vampires. It was a blessing in that the Nightstalkers didn't really need to learn new methods and it kept their suppliers employed and well-paid. Any blow that severed the spine was fatal, thanks Be. That and a blow or shot that severed the head.

Anything else a lycan could heal and come back to bite the Nightstalker in the ass. That was a lesson that the Nightstalkers had learned the hard way. She crossed herself again at the memory of the Portland, Oregon cell.

She walked into The Lone Pussy and smiled as everything paused. "Good evening. This is your local Nightstalker. Sorry, pussies. Party's over," she stated, taking the pause that the cats took to reach for weapons or change to fire.

Only headshots were effective after a lycan changed to his or her animal form.

_The brain shuts down because they can't regenerate the damaged tissue because of the traces of silver. The brain shuts down, the body dies. The body dies, I win,_ Savannah reminded herself, shooting the bartender and a pretty young woman in the middle of the change.

There was a black flash beside her, black skin, black leather armor. She dropped her guns and pulled out her powerarch, taking a second to fire it up as her guns fell. One werecat ran into it, thinking it was just a pretty toy. She severed his head, kicking him back, watching his head sever with no arterial flow.

_Beautiful_.

The man in black was tearing werecat heads from their bodies, moving with her in a killing dance. If she moved left, he moved right, an arm extending as if he had spun her and was waiting for her to return. When she moved right, he moved left and they were so close she could smell his lack of cologne, though he still smelled so masculine that she wanted to go weak at the knees.

_A partner_.

She screamed when hands grabbed her elbows, pulling the powerarch far too close to her stomach. _Half as hot as the sun_, she remembered, hearing Abigail Whistler-King's voice in her ear, taunting her. She felt blisters begin to immediately form, scented burning flesh.

The man in black looked at her, honey eyes mildly annoyed at the interruption. She could _feel_ the power coming off of him in controlled waves.

_"Human,"_ he hissed. "Nightstalker."

She nodded. His eyes went feral and flicked to the man behind her.

"And _who_ are _you?"_ the wereleopard queried in a tone that would not have been out-of-place in the uppermost crust of society. In four perfectly formed words, there was courtesy, rudeness, dignity, decorum, and death.

_"Blade,"_ the man in black replied, flashing fangs that should not have been possible after The Battle of The Daystar.

_Blade... Oh, Abby, you were right. He's definitely more than chocolate-covered strawberries. What's better than chocolate-covered strawberries?_ she wondered, distracting herself from the heat of the powerarch and the scent of the burning flesh of her stomach. It was a worthy distraction as it kept her from moving and moving would have been a very, very, very bad idea.

Too much movement in any direction and she could kiss losing her virginity goodbye.

Shutting down the powerarch was an option, if she didn't mind shattering three fingers on each hand because of the way she was holding the damned thing. She had been about to flip it and only her thumbs and forefingers were in the handgrip. The others were spread out inside the powerarch's frame, sitting there, stretched painfully.

_Sex or vanity... sex or vanity?_

When she made a decision, her eyes caught Blade's and flicked down, deliberately eyeing the off button. He blinked three times

Three letters.

_Yes._

She raised an eyebrow to be certain and got an impatient stare. The kind of impatient stare that told you to do it and bloody well get it over with. Otherwise, you were to shut up and stop distracting him because if you didn't, he would not hesitate to kill your happy ass and spread your pieces over San Francisco Bay.

With only the slightest hesitation, she depowered the powerarch. The world went mercifully black as both of her pinkie fingers were broken simultaniously.

x-x-x-x-x-x-

Blade saw young, traumatized blue eyes widen in stunned pain, a half-formed scream strangle her vocal cords, rip the breath from her lungs, before her eyes closed. She crumpled in a pile of black leather, porcelian skin, and crimson hair. She looked far too young to be a Nightstalker. What had happened in the few months that he'd been gone? The time that it had taken the Cook County, Illinois, District Attorney's office to decide whether to free him, kill him, or commit him? What could have forced Whistler to start recruiting children?

_She can't be more than twenty-two or -three. And a lone patrol Nightstalker. She's either powerful, lucky, stupid, or a combination of the three._

He blinked and focused his attention on the Alpha of the Timerlan Parc Pard. He had a vacant look in his eyes, staring at the girl he held awkwardly.

"Look, man, I swear I didn't do anything to her."

Blade sighed. Definitely more brawn than brains.

"She just screamed and passed out."

"Don't worry about the girl."

He deliberately studied the girl as the Alpha lowered her to the ground. For all that he was a lycan, and apparentally a dumb one, he respected his enemy, or had a high regard for women..

The study lead the Alpha to believe that Blade was distracted and the man lunged for Blade. That earned a dodge and a corrective tap from the flat of Blade's _katana_. A growl, another incorrect attack, and Blade's sword severed his head in a flash.

Blade cleaned the sword on the Alpha's dead body, watching the head roll idly, sheathing the blade before approaching the collapsed Nightstalker.

He felt so unbalanced, so primal. When he had awakened on that autopsy table, something vital had been missing, something he'd never before noticed, never named.

So much death, so much channelled grief that he'd never truly coped with.

Now, he had a choice. He'd never been given a choice since the one that the Old Man had given him.

Did he return to the Nightstalkers or did he go back to his solitary existance after calling for an extraction for the crimson haired warrior princess that had crushed her fingers in order to give him an opening?

He longed to have the faint scent of Whistler that Abigail couldn't hide, no matter how much perfume she soaked herself in. He had trusted Whistler with his life at fifteen after years and years of betrayal. He had trusted Abigail after Whistler's death at the hands of the F.B.I.'s inept traitors. He even (grudgingly) liked Hannibal King.

This girl-child had proven herself to them, had earned her patrol...

Against his better judgement, he lifted the unconscious woman and walked to her car. Once there, he activated the hands-free device that only dialled one number.

_"Savannah! You were supposed to be back ten minutes ago!"_ screeched Abigail Whistler.

"She got a bit... sidetracked," he purred. "Hello, Whistler."

_"Son-of-a-bitch... Blade?!"_


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Okay, I know, I know. Blade is _always_ rescuing someone, but think about it. He thinks that only a few months have passed since the Daystar virus, when it's really been two years. Then, there's also the rescued-heroine syndrome... Yeah. I'm gonna shut up now. Read and enjoy and don't forget about the pretty purple button that reads 'Review'.

**Chapter Two:**

_Two Days Later_

The Serengeti Sanctuary was abuzz with the news. Blade, the Daywalker, the last of the vampires, the defeater of Dracula, was alive and, aside from a slight dehydration from lack of serum, well. He had saved the second best Nightstalker from 'a certain death' and returned the 'hapless child-hunter' to her family. The 'certain death' and 'hapless child-hunter' comments had come from the older trainers that were like the village gossips.

Blade had asked a few general questions about the young woman he had 'saved.' Her name was Savannah Rose O'Rourke, eighteen. She was the youngest serving Nightstalker, having served since sixteen when her parents had been brutally raped and murdered by vampires a few months before the release of the Daystar virus. She had immediately left school, earned her equivalency degree, completed her training as a field Nightstalker, and served since, arriving on the scene just days before the release of Daystar. She had seen vampires suddenly turn to ash, as the Sanctuary had not been informed of the release of Daystar and Savannah and the other patrolling Nightstalkers had just went on patrol like they would every other night.

Even though he'd lost over a year of his life, Blade couldn't stop the feeling of kinship, of understanding, of camaraderie. Forced into violence so young in order to cope with the rage. She was a warrior, through and through, but she was still cocky, still young. Her error could have cost her life if he hadn't been there. She had let an enemy behind her and it could have killed her.

He checked on her in the Infirmary, relieved to see her awake, through groggy. Layers of gauze hid the shattered, but rebuilt, fingers, the casts to hold them straight and still.

Her eyes blinked once, twice, before she found her voice.

"Blade." She gave a small nod, struggling a little not to slide back into her drugged slumber. Her eyes were sapphire pools of gratitude. Even in silence, her thanks was more than adequate.

"Savannah." He gave a nod bafck to show that her silent apprecation had been understood.

"We're gonna have problems. Abigail showed me pictures of what you did to the Alpha of Timerlan Parc. His brother is- _was_," she corrected, "-a familiar, so they're both dead. It's their sire I'm concerned about."

"Hmm... I don't see it as your concern. Six broken fingers will keep you out of it."

"Like hell. I _must_ be there when the Elmcroft Pard is confronted. With Abigail _enciente_, I'm the strongest Nightwalker in residence!"

_"Enciente?"_ Blade queried. It wasn't a phrase he was familiar with.

"Pregnant. Abigail's _pregnant_ with an ex-_vampire's_ spawn," Savannah spat, crossing herself delicately.

"Awww, 'Vannah, you're just mad I didn't bite you're too pale, virgin ass first," drawled the mentioned ex-vampire. "The Irish never tasted right to me. Much prefer me an American thoroughbred. Mmm, hits all the right spots. The Irish have too high an alcohol content, mmm-hmm."

Blade realized that Savannah had been teasing after a moment. "That's because yer American ass cannae handle a feisty Irish goddess such as meself. Not enough substance in ye, Hannibal. Ye lack the pride of an Irishman, the strength. Aye, I'll nay have me a man I can toss aboot the way Abigail does ye nor one I can outdrink the way I do ye," she drawled in a perfect countryside Irish lass accent.

Blade laughed internally, his stoic expression never faltering.

"Yer naught but her ragadoll, what with the sounds we all here. More'n half the Sanctuary be convinced we'll nay see ye some mornin'. Dunno what ye could be a'doin' to cause such banshee shrieks. D'ye, Blade?"

Blade froze. This was the closest to pure mortification that he had ever been. His sexual education was sadly deprived. Whistler had taught him the most essential basics of sex, but he couldn't think of anything that would cause yelling or shrieking.

"No, I can't, Savannah," he replied in all honestly before exiting the room with a cold glance at Hannibal King.

"He hates me, doesn't he?" Hannibal queried right after Blade exited the room.

"I believe so," Savannah replied before bursting into peals of laughter.

Blade's lips quirked slightly as he went to Abigail for a dose of serum.

x-x-x-x-x-x-

Savannah sat at a computer, webconferencing with her younger sisters, Paige, sixteen, and Veronica, ten.

_"Soooo, who is the tall, dark, and handsome that Abigail was telling us saved your sorry ass, Savannah? He sounded absolutely scrum-diddly-umptious,"_ Paige queried, her voice tinny in the speakers of Savannah's headphones.

"Well, he's... He's Blade. _The_ Blade."

_"Well, there goes the 'And does he have a brother?' question. You're screwed, Paige,"_ Veronica retorted, very much aware of her older sister's habits of fraternizing with any guy that would spend the time to pretend to give her a relationship. Veronica thought that it was their father's fault for dying so young, though her memories were already fading. _"But, on a more serious note, is he as awesome as Abby makes him sound?"_

Savannah smiled at her youngest sister. "Oh, Veronica, he's more than awesome. He's everything Abigail painted him out to be and more," she replied, painting the romantic picture that her sister obviously desired. "He came in, a whirlwind of black leather and ebony skin, like a warrior-king-priest of old, all muscle and flashing blades. He took that silly Alpha and just stared him down until he was glad to surrender."

Veronica gasped and looked appropriately pleased.

_"Okay, now that the child is pleased,"_ Paige hissed at Veronica, _"why don't you give me the real story?"_

Savannah gave Paige an annoyed look, but complied. "He's _better_ than chocolate-covered strawberries."

_"No way. Im-fucking-possible. Your virginity is showing. No man is better than chocolate-covered-"_ Paige broke off into a purr. _"I take it back. Mmmm, do I take it back."_

Savannah blushed as she saw Blade appear behind her. He looked at the webcam, the open conference windows, raised an eyebrow, and removed a headphone.

"Your sisters, Savannah?"

Savannah nodded.

_"Hello, I'm Paige. The idiot in the other window is Veronica."_

Blade nodded his head and Savannah sighed. There was no man alive that was immune to Paige's earthier charms. Savannah was an Amazon warrior-princess, lacking Paige's lithe, feminine strength, having been in training since she was a child. Paige was softly curved in all of the right places, having ceased the harder training exercises when her breasts began forming so she would not have to bind them.

Paige was sexy, womanly. Savannah was like Abigail, trim, tall, curves hidden under bindings that she wore even on her off-days to bind her too-generous breasts from sight.

Yet, even Abigail had someone to share with, to hold, to comfort, to procreate with.

Savannah was just alone. And being alone really, really sucked.

_"Yo, sis? You okay?"_ Veronica queried, her young eyes concerned.

"Yes, I'm fine. Why, Veronica?"

Paige gave her a _'You fuckin moron!'_ look. _"Blade _asked_ if your fingers were okay. Sheesh, you're such a brainless idiot. No wonder you can't get a guy, you don't pay attention. Could have sworn you were mooning about something, though. Then again, you're the Vestal Virgin of the family. _You_ don't know how to moon."_

"My fingers are fine," she replied, ignoring the rest of the commentary. _'Vestal Virgin'_ indeed! Then she made a note to look up what the fuck a Vestal Virgin was.

She grimaced as her right hand started to it, the kind of prickling sensation that was designed to drive a mere mortal mad. She shuddered with the desire to scratch...

Until Blade touched her shoulders, rubbing them, his thumbs moving in a slow, circular motion. "I remember how much healing flesh itches," was the only explanation he offered. His fingers pressed in gently, working one of her tense muscles.

Her innermost self, jokingly called her Squeal Girl, was in overdrive. _Blade backmassageOh my_ GAWD!!!

_"Damn, Blade, she's _purring!_ Who are you and what-"_

_"Shut up, Paige. Motherfuck. Savannah, disconnect now."_

Savannah clicked the disconnect button at Veronica's suggestion. Then she leaned forward on the desk, giving him easier access to the muscles and awkwardly pulling her hair up...

Revealing her neck.

Blade froze and those magnificent hands pulled away from her slowly, as if horrified. "Never reveal your neck to a vampire, Savannah."

"You're not a vampire, Blade. Otherwise, Daystar would have incinerated you," she replied, sitting up and turning around. The self-disgust was evident on his face, as she'd worn the same expression of self-loathing more than once. Her hair fell around her face and she couldn't find the energy to lift her hands and slide the mass over her shoulders.

_"Why was I spared?"_ she remembered screaming at Abigail after her first mission. _"Mama was a good woman, a gentle woman, a techie. Papa was a harder man, but he was a tech, too. Why were _they_ killed and their Hunter-In-Training daughter spared to kill again?!"_

"Don't let me touch you again," was his reply as he stalked off.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three:

**Chapter Three:**

Days passed and Savannah had a great feeling of uselessness that only grew greater. She couldn't patrol, make bullets, train, cook, and she didn't have the patience to teach. It took her under twenty-four hours after her encounter with Blade to realize that, in her current state, she was perfectly useless, a waste of the Sanctuary's resources.

The realization brought the onset of feelings of complete misery. She paced Caulder's lab until she knew the room was forty steps by twenty-five, when she walked heel-to-toe, nine feet tall, and sound-proofed. When Caulder kicked her out, she decided that what she and some of the students needed was a test-hunt.

What was there to hunt, though? No vampires, no weres…

She suddenly grinned. No vampires, but she did know a hybrid.

x-x-x-x-x-x-

That little human slip of a girl was up to something, Blade mused. After a week of melancholy, she was suddenly high-spirited, mischievous-eyed, and content. Loud music blared from her room at all hours of the night. Edgy music, heavy on the snare and the bass.

Blade popped the serum inhaler in his mouth and shook at the faint electric rush took him. It wasn't nearly enough anymore. The serum wasn't strong enough, the rush wasn't empowering enough.

He could remember Karen Jenson's neck, her pulse under his mouth, her blood spilling down his throat…

A moment of weakness overcame him and the memory of Karen shifted into a fantasy.

Savannah O'Rourke's milky-white swan's neck beneath his lips, the blue of her veins pounding with her pulse, the hot, sweet taste of blood, a small sigh as his fangs began to press in…

"_Blade!"_

Shock washed over his face for a moment before he calmed and turned to face her. For one small moment, fantasy and reality had violently collided. A moment where sapphire eyes burned him and tried to heal his soul. Eyes that tried to take that soul from him, that darkness, and bind him to her. To her light.

To add something to you, people needed your permission. But to take, they needed nothing but the strength to take what they sought.

In that moment, he remembered how easily he had held Karen down- just one hand on her stomach, minimal pressure- and he knew that he'd never hold Savannah the same way. Savannah would either trust him implicitly and need no restraints or fight him until one of them submitted.

"Savannah," he greeted.

She smiled and her eyes lit up. "I've discussed something with the Trainers and Abigail. We have an idea, but we need your help."

One eyebrow went high. Karen may have been his first lengthy exposure to the female species, but the words 'we need your help' sent an instinctive shiver of fear down his spine.

"What do you need?"

x-x-x-x-x-x-

Savannah grinned as she armored up. Abigail had painted white stripes on her and Caulder's armor, signaling that they were referees. She ran over the team lists and rubbed her palm against her neck.

Blade, King, and a Nightstalker scientist by the name of Karen Jenson were on the 'vampire' team. She knew of Dr. Jenson by reputation only, and it was enough to impress her.

A former hematologist, Karen Jenson had developed a pre-Change serum for herself. She claimed she had come across the 'cure' by pure luck. With Sommerfield, formerly of the Honeycomb Hideout, she had developed a post-Change cure for vampires under half a century old. That was what had saved King.

Team Two was a mock-pack. Six of the older Trainers and two recently graduated Hunters. Wereanimals were so much more social creatures than vampires, which was why team two was larger.

It was a paintball war with four teams of Nightstalkers. They would operate in mini-sleeper cells of four members. When three members of a team 'died', the remaining member could 'activate' one of the sleeping teams.

Abby helped her into her helmet and King tied her boots.

"Okay, ex-suckhead and Lady Hormonal. Anything I need to know?"

Abigail grimaced and Savannah steeled herself. That wasn't a good sign.

"Yeah. Zoe's in Nightstalker team three."

x-x-x-x-x-x-

Blade eyed his paintball gun, wondering for the third time in as many hours why he had agreed to this. A 'training exercise' Savannah had called it. A 'practice battle so we can make use of your knowledge.'

The she had done this _thing_ with her eyes, fluttering the lashes and then looking at him through them. He had _felt_ his will weakening, the urge to five into her desire overpowering his common sense.

Which was why he was dressed in red and black protective armor, carrying a paintball gun, and getting ready to 'hunt' Nightstalkers.

He frowned when a semi-familiar scent entered the battle arena. Female, healthy… Recognition hit moments before her arms came around him.

"Karen…?"

When she looked up at him, another female hissed angrily and he turned to face the hisser. Eyes the color of oceanic fury met his and narrowed. Then Savannah spun on her heel and went to her referee box.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four:**

Illogically, Savannah felt betrayed. She couldn't believe that Blade would hug the famed hematologist, her neck bared to the world, her eyes full of adoration. It wasn't fair, wasn't right, wasn't-

She leaned heavily against a wall, unaware of being watched, and fought the urge to cry. She could admit, now, that she had wanted Blade deeply, though he hadn't made obvious any desire for anyone's company. She had fallen in love with him long ago, with what she knew, what she imagined, what she'd seen, what she'd grown up hearing.

_Blade, the Daywalker. Blade, the hero. Blade, the immortal. Blade, Leader of the Bloodpack. Blade, the loner. Blade, the man Savannah O'Rourke, confessed chocaholic, would give up chocolate for._

She gasped and fell to her knees, realizing the hopelessness of her adulation. She seemed to be in love with someone who could never love her, not to mention his being in another woman's embrace….

x-x-x-x-x-x-

Blade was startled by how coldly Savannah had dismissed him. How she had been so angry one moment and gone the next.

He extracted himself from Karen's embrace and she pouted, but he could smell her triumph. "Didn't you miss me, Blade? Even a little? It's been so long since we saw each other."

"I haven't thought of you often, nor do I care to," he replied brutally, realizing that, somehow, Karen had found out about the infatuation Savannah had for him and decided to hurt the girl. He hadn't even really realized Savannah's crush until just now.

"I'm part of you, Blade. My blood is your blood," she wheedled. "Remember?"

He fell silent, realizing that it probably hadn't been too difficult for Karen to find out about him surviving the battle with Drake. Whistler had sent the woman to the Nightstalkers and she had obviously stayed there for whatever reasons, making use of her valuable knowledge.

King walked up and shoved him, his eyes dark with rage. "I thought you were just a cold son-of-a-bitch, but now it makes sense. Why'd you have to hurt _Savannah_ though? Hasn't she been through enough without you pulling this bullshit, Blade?"

Karen popped into the conversation, her voice grating and saccharine. "Whos' Savannah, darling?"

King growled low at the endearment, his eyes narrowing in offense at the hurt that the woman had caused Savannah. "Oh, no one, apparently, to Blade. She had just fallen in love with him is all."

The woman laughed, and it didn't take a genius to figure out that it was coy and fake. She had truly known about Savannah and had done this deliberately. "Oh, how cute! She's all of what? Sixteen, seventeen? Don't you think that's cute, darling?" she queried, turning to Blade. "You're the object of a high-school crush!"

King beat Blade by seconds to shove Karen into the wall, making the woman yelp. He stayed in her face and growled again. "Savannah O'Rourke is eighteen, the best hunter any of the Nightstalker cells have seen in decades, and a far better woman than you, Dr. Jenson. I'd advise you to speak more kindly of the innocent young woman you just needlessly hurt, who's heart you just broke." Kind paused for a moment and turned to face Blade. "And, perhaps, you should discover more about Savannah before you choose saccharin over honey."

King tossed Blade a little black book with a single rose on the cover and walked away as "Teams, step forward! Vampire team, prepare!" came over the loudspeaker.

x-x-x-x-x-x-

"Kill awarded to Hannibal King!" Caulder announced over the loudspeaker, ten minutes into the mock-war. "Kill awarded to Zoe Sommerfield!"

Savannah sat back, watching the competition idly, her eyes straying to Blade frequently and against her will. He was stalking Zoe, watching her kills within the pretend-pard. The ten-year-old was going against Hunters nearly twice her age and winning, having 'killed' about three members of the pard by dividing and conquering.

_Veni, vidi, vici._

Zoe still refused to talk about what she had seen the night that her mother and the rest of the Honeycomb Hideout had been brutally murdered. The cheerful, curious, vivacious girl of eight had matured in hours, growing silent and watchful, a miniature adult.

"_I told you, Gnome King… My friends came to kill you…"_

Abby had told her about that almost disembodied voice, the careless words. Thinking of Zoe uttering them still frightened Savannah.

"Zoe Sommerfield is taken down. Kill awarded to Blade!"

"Savannah…" Abby walked in and sat beside her. "Oh, Savannah, why didn't you tell me?"

She turned to her oldest friend, in truth, her _only_ friend besides Hannibal King. She tried to carefully mask her expression.

"King saw everything, baby girl," Abby murmured, her arms coming around Savannah to offer comfort.

Savannah fell into Abby's arms and started weeping, muttering about how useless she was, how ugly, how much it hurt.

"Oh, Savannah," she heard Abby whisper, not realizing that her fragility in this moment was leaving a mark on Abby. The strong Hunter was breaking and it was all because of a man.

Abby had never realized that Savannah had felt so alone, so outcast, so disfigured until this moment. She could hear Savannah comparing herself to the lithe Paige, the beautiful Paige. She hadn't known that Savannah craved company, longed for affection, needed to know that she was needed and wanted. Savannah had always seemed so calm, so cool, so in control.

Now, it all came pouring out, an emotional torrent that had Abby paling at her own unwitting inconsideration and glowing with rage at Blade's complete frigidity. She couldn't believe how thoughtless they had all been. She had known how fragile the sanity of her best Hunter was, how emotional she could be, and also how emotionally dead the girl could be. She was furious, mostly at herself for allowing this accidental emotional abuse of their best Hunter.

And there would be Hell to pay for her rage.

x-x-x-x-x-x-

Blade allowed himself to be killed by an older Nighstalker two hours into the mock-war. He was curious about the book that Hannibal had tossed him earlier. After he cooled down from the physical activity, he sat and opened the book to the first page.

_February 13__th_

_Journal 7_

_Malcolm's Ridge_

_Something big is going on. Maman and Papa are buzzing with excitement, whispering about something called 'Daystar'. Naturally, though, they refuse to discuss it with Paige and myself, saying that we are too young, that by the time we are through with all of our training, vampires will be no more._

'_Daystar'… I wonder what it could be._

_There is also a rumor that someone has found Dracula. Something about an ancient temple in Sumeria devoted to a blood-god of some sort that they think is where Dracula came from. I pray to whatever God listens to a murderess-in-training that this rumor is false. We cannot destroy the origin. He would be too powerful. Most of the vampires that the Nightstalkers destroy are less than five hundred years._

_I'm scared. Surely no one would be foolish enough to awaken The First._

_Maybe Blade could, though. But Blade is one of _them_, even if he is one of us. I wonder, sometimes, if he feels as torn as I do? Peaceful parents, only trying to save the world, while their daughter trains to kill, devouring her own innocence to destroy a monster that she may very well end up becoming._

_Paige talks about meeting Blade one day and seeing if his 'sword' matches the reputation, the little _putain_. All she talks about are guys and _obtenir étendu._ How could two good Catholics like my parents produce such a slut?_

_I'd like to meet Blade, too. I'm sure that he feels as I do, being both human and vampire, immortal hunger with mortal conscience where I am student and master, mortal conscience with an immortal enemy._

_Maybe he'd deign to talk to me, if I offered to just listen. Or, maybe, he'd let me sit near him in Meditations. (Whistler says that I need more Meditation to channel the 'wild' energy I possess.)_

_Oh well. It's bedtime. I guess (_espoir!_) that I'll dream of the Daywalker tonight._

_-Rose O'Rourke_

Blade stared at the elegant signature, the French, and smiled. Rose O'Rourke would be Savannah O'Rourke. She had used a 'prettier' name in a happier time for her. Though, from her words, it really wasn't much happier.

He flipped ahead to the week of her parents' murders.

_March 17__th_

_Detroit_

_Last night, Rose O'Rourke, Melisandre O'Rourke, and Elliot O'Rourke were all murdered. Melisandre and Elliot were raped and mutilated by vampires before being drained dry and then forcibly staked by Rose._

_Rose O'Rourke, a happy, vivacious girl has become Savannah O'Rourke, Huntress, murderer, and avenger._

Dans la mort, la vengeance

'_Dans la mort, la vengeance'_, if Blade could recall correctly, was French for 'In death, vengeance.'

She had wanted vengeance for her parents' humiliating deaths, the fact that she had been the one to make sure that they couldn't rise as vampires.

It was a little over three months until her next entry.

_June 20__th_

_Cambridge, Mass._

_Goddess above, it hurts. I can't get the look on their faces when I shoved silver in their hearts out of my head. I can't sleep, can't eat, can't _think_._

_I betrayed them. Even vampires as parents would be better than no parents. Paige and Veronica need parents. I'm no mother. I cannot raise them._

_They took them away from me. Paige and Veronica, I mean. We've been on the run now for a while, but the Nightstalkers finally took my sisters from me._

The pen trailed off, words that Blade couldn't decipher. He could _feel_ her hurt, though. He could smell the blood on the page long before his eyes reached it.

"Congratulations, Teams Two and Four! You've exterminated the vampires and the weres! The world is safe for human population," Caulder announced. The mock-war was over.

Now, the real battle would begin.


End file.
